Giving Him Hope {A Black Butler Story}

Chapter 7: A Diagnosis

Hi all! Sorry this took so long. Had some delays due to me hurting my wrist, and then a lack of motivation for a while. Anyways, I think both issues are behind me now, so I am ready to get some writing done! The plot continues to thicken, so I hope you enjoy!

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                Hope had never felt so sick in her whole life. The girl had been getting sick all morning, and couldn't get the energy to even get out of bed to use the bathroom without Sophie helping her. All she could do was wait for the doctor her parents called for to show up. Hopefully they would be able to tell what was wrong with her and get her on the road to recovery before too much longer. Hope hated feeling sick, but this was the absolute worse she had ever felt. Her head ached, her muscles felt like she had strained all of them, one moment she was hot and the next she was freezing, her voice was hoarse, her chest heavy, her breathing labored. Things were just not working out for her today.

Yet despite being sick, her mind was on other things. She didn't want to be cooped up in her room all day. She really wanted to write Ciel that day, but now it was going to be more of a chore than anything given her general weakness, not to mention how shaky she was. Her only company so far that morning had been her parents, who occasionally stepped into the room for a few minutes and then left again, and Sophie, who was still seated a few feet away, just waiting for a request.

Hope cleared her throat, in an effort to sound more like herself when she spoke. "Once the doctor figures out what's wrong with me, I would like for you to pen Lord Phantomhive a quick note to inform him of my condition," she explained. She paused for a moment to allow her throat a chance to recover. "I would do it myself, but to be honest I don't know how legible it would be."

Sophie merely nodded, taking in the request. "I can do that for you. Is there anything else you need for me to do?" she inquired.

Hope shook her head, something that took more energy than it probably should have. The girl rested her head against her pillow that was propping her somewhat upright. She figured she needed to get some rest to try to fight off the illness. Not that she thought rest alone would help her. She closed her eyes, deciding that the dim light coming from behind the window's curtains was hurting her eyes. She only opened them when she felt a palm press against her forehead.

"You really should get as much rest as possible, miss," Sophie spoke up again. "You're still very warm. I'll fetch you another cool rag."

"That would be delightful," Hope muttered as loudly as she could, which was still just a whisper.

Sophie nodded as she stood. "I'll be right back," she stated before making her way out of the girl's room.

Hope sighed, sinking deeper into her pillow. While the cushion wasn't helping her headache, it was still somewhat comforting. Hope took a deep, yet shaky, breath, willing herself to feel better. If it was only that easy. The girl closed her eyes, trying to think positive thoughts. Maybe it was just a cold? Hope wanted it to be something as simple as a cold, but for some reason she doubted it. She had had plenty of colds before; this was nothing like that.

Hope didn't have much time to think about it. Within a few minutes, her parents entered her room, along with a strange man she assumed was the doctor. She said nothing to them, but just looked on as the three of them gathered around her bed. None of the adults in the room spoke up for several moments, something that bothered Hope more than she wanted to admit.

"Well Miss Whitlock, I have some suspicions as to what is wrong with you, based upon the information your parents have relayed to me," the doctor finally stated. From the tone in his voice, Hope was not feeling too positive about the outcome. "But I am going to do some tests myself to officially determine what the diagnosis is."

Hope nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. The doctor placed a thermometer in her mouth before moving onto the next thing. The doctor wasted no time in placing the cold metal of a stethoscope underneath the back of her nightgown and against her back. The girl jumped slightly at the feel of the icy metal touching her skin, although she should have expected it. Hope attempted to shake the thought as the doctor instructed her to take deep breaths as he moved the stethoscope to several different locations across her back. Hope closed her eyes, already knowing the sounds coming from her lungs were anything but healthy. After a few moments, the doctor moved away. Hope watched as he removed the thermometer from her mouth before glancing at the temperature reading, waiting as patiently as she could for the diagnosis.

"Well, as far as I can determine, it would seem Miss Whitlock is suffering from what could be a fatal combination of influenza and pneumonia," the doctor explained, and immediately Hope's heart sank. "Seems like she has probably been sick for a while now, and only when her condition worsened had she displayed any symptoms."

Fatal? That was not the word she was hoping to hear. Sure, medicine was improving every day, but was she seriously going to die because her own body failed to tell her she had been sick in the first place? She glanced between her parents, awaiting some kind of response from them. Surely they weren't going to just let her struggle to her death.

"What can we do?" her mother eventually asked quietly.

The doctor thought about it. "There are a few medicines that would help alleviate some of her symptoms, not to mention several home remedies you could try as well..."

Hope zoned out, not wanting to hear any more of it as she sunk back into her pillows. Her mind was too busy racing. She couldn't believe this was happening, let alone happening when she had really felt fine before she had gotten bedridden. The girl took a shuddering breath, willing herself to remain strong. Maybe this doctor was a quack. Maybe he was just giving the worst case scenario. Regardless to the doctor's validity, Hope was determined to not allow this to be the end. She had so much she still wanted to do with her life, and she wasn't going to let this illness get the better of it.

As her parents and doctor continued to discuss options in front of her, Hope noticed Sophie reenter the room, cool cloth and a glass of water in hand. The maid had a seat on the edge of the bed as she placed the cloth on Hope's forehead. Sophie handed Hope the glass of water, making sure the girl's shaky grip wouldn't cause her to spill it.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked quietly as Hope began taking a sip from the glass.

Hope finished drinking, and handed her maid the glass back before answering. "Flu and pneumonia. Doesn't look good, apparently," she said back in a whisper.

Sophie frowned. "This isn't good, miss. Do you still wish for me to write Lord Phantomhive for you?"

Hope nodded. "He is courting me. Ciel deserves to know my condition," she replied weakly.

"I'll get right on it, miss," Sophie stated, standing. "I'll let you read it before I send it." She paused, glancing at the ceiling before speaking again. "You're going to get through this fine. I promise."

Even though Sophie had never let her down before, somehow Hope seriously doubted that statement. She felt off, and she wasn't sure home remedies, miscellaneous medicine, and prayers were going to cure her. She was going to need a miracle or a demon deal, and Hope wasn't sure she believed in either anymore. The girl closed her eyes, hoping that the doctor was horribly wrong.